


Stealing Stars, Burning Stars

by Taifics



Series: Paradoxes [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Academy Era - memories, Doctor-Master-Missy relations, Fanart Included, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Spoilers s10e12, screwdriver issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taifics/pseuds/Taifics
Summary: Relationship between the Master and the Doctor is complex. There is so much of bitterness underneath.





	Stealing Stars, Burning Stars

The Doctor had many faces and the most of them the Master could easly recall. Originally, he was blondish skinny boy, afterwards, he was older dandy man, once, he had curly hair and ridiculous scraf, once, spiky hair and now... he was an old man again. So tired, so desperated yet still – so _kind_.

The Master was watching him carefully, as they were both walking side by side through the artificial greenfields of the solar farm. For the first time since he had met this version of the Doctor he was with him with no one else around. Missy had vanished somewhere mysteriously in the morning (to Master's utter surprise) and so he was – pacing alone with the man new and old at the same time.

“I suppose, we'll track one lift down soon in this area. Can you set your screwdriver to detect any disturbance, any hint of energy field, any...” spoke the Doctor, not looking at him.

“I'm not one of your human pets. Just stop it,” interrupted the Master tartly.

“I'm well aware of that,” replied the other Time Lord, giving the Master strangely amused look. “I'm just not sure if your funny little toy has now any useful setting inside... I mean, something remotely different than: kill it, kill it or kill it...”

At first, the Master frowned oddly perplexed by such response but after the short while he cracked a smile.

“Well, the vast majority of issues can easly be solved by killing,” he said. “But pray do not underestimate me. I'm not exactly good, old Harry Saxon now.”

“No, you're not, of course,” ensured the Doctor. “Now you have your rubbish beard again.”

“Oi, Doc!” exclaimed the Master visibly offened. “Don't dis my goatee. It's stylish.”

“Dis?” asked the Doctor, raising one of his prominent eyebrows. “Where have you picked that one from? Is that disastrous influence of Gallifreyan teenagers or corrupted Mondasians?”

“Do you assume I was busy throwing parties with Cybermen for all those years?” replied the Master with husky laugh.

“Oh, but you do like parties! Remember Valiant?” spoke the Doctor with a sparkle of hardly hidden spite. “Singing off-key, making some Egyptian mummy out of me, decimating humanity... Fun, hm?”

“Come on! Don't be grumpy!” sighed the Master, shrugging his shoulders. “If it cheers you up, now you're definitely too old to age you!”

“You singing off-key was something much worse than ageing, actually,” said the Doctor, smiling.

The other Time Lord couldn't help but laugh shortly in response.

For the moment they remined silent.

The Master was studying the Doctor's face quietly, thinking how weird it was to talk with him so normally, with no intent of killing each other. He liked, as a matter of fact, Doctor's new and, at the same time, fixed sense of humor. It made him reminiscing the old days back home, when they were both in the Academy – inseparable, consentaneous and talking the same manner as just a while ago. The Doctor was yet much different in the past, on Gallifrey. He was not _kind_. They were alike, they were both naughty and brilliant. The Master remembered being steady, in control then, finding no pleasure in violence itself. It was the Doctor, who was properly crazy one, daring one. Rassilon, the little Doc wanted to steal a star from the sky far above and put it in a glass box so that it could shine brightly when he was willing to read a book at night! And he promised to steal one for the Master too. Oddly enough, he did it. He was a child when he constructed the star-catch trap! But now? Now all that remained of that child was something as trivial as the sense of humour. Once, they would steal all stars of the universe just for the pure joy of having them on their own and now they could only have a nice chat with a few spiteful jokes. Even Gallifrey was nothing but dissapointment, unable to appreciate any of them. Gallifrey...

“Teenagers of Gallifrey,” muttered the Master, finally breaking the silence.

The Doctor looked at him attentively.

“I've seen none of them,” he continued quietly, not looking back.

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully.

“I was in the cell, obviously,” said the Master with no expression. “Just me.”

The Doctor hesitated, clearly searching for accurate words.

“I'm sorry for your lose,” he said eventually with his face blank.

“Poor attempt, Doctor,” claimed the Master, reading his mind with no effort. “You're horrible at masking your _kindness_.”

“I'm not trying to mask it,” said the Doctor calmly with his gaze focused on sonic screwdriver. “I'm expressing it.”

So tired, so desperated yet still – so kind, thought the Master once again, staring at him. That new version of the Doctor was so similar to every previous one yet much more distant. As if he was the Doctor, the same, old Doctor but... not _his_. Not _his_ Doctor. Just a scent of him. False. Illusion. _A lie_.

“Are you going to help me or will you just stare like that?” ask the Doctor impatiently. “Set your toy and try to catch my signal. We'll join both mine and yours. It should increase the possibility of finding energy canal.”

The Master had set his screwdriver and found the connection but then his and Doctor's devices buzzed and sparkled, hissing angrily.

“What the...” growled the Master surprised, trying to reset his screwdriver. “What's wrong? It should cooperate easly!”

The Doctor broke the connection.

“I think I know the answer,” he said slowly.

The Master gave him quick do-not-try-my-patience look.

“Time streams,” sighed the Doctor. “Same software, different time streams. I could probably connect with Missy's umbrella-whatever-toy with no difficulties but not with yours. You could possibly do as well connect with her device as you're technically the same person but... Not with mine.”

“Oh, great!” whined the Master loudly. “You couldn't predict that earlier, before you dragged me here, could you?”

“I could. I did,” replied the Doctor simply. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Pardon?” marveled the other Time Lord.

“Haven't seen your round face since ages,” said the Doctor, grinning wickedly.

“What it was supposed to be then? A date?” asked the Master ironically, holding back a laugh. “You should have told me I would bring some candles.”

“Candles are overrated!” finched the Doctor. “But the tiny glass box with a genuine stolen star inside... That would be nice!”

The Master blinked twice, frowned and stared back confused.

“What? Don't you remember?” asked the Doctor with enigmatic smile. “I gave you one.”

The other Time Lord hesitatded briefly.

“No, I don't,” he said firmly with ostentatious disregard.

“Oh,” muttered the Doctor somewhat sadly. “I see.”

They kept quiet for minute or two, slowly heading back to the village.

“Where's Missy, by the way?” asked the Doctor, sounding as ordinarily as ever.

“I don't know,” said the Master clearly annoyed. “Lady-me likes lonely walks.”

The Doctor smiled but said nothing.

“We seem to get on extraordinarily well with each other,” acknowledged the Master, pursuing his lips, “you and lady-me.”

The other Time Lord nodded.

“We are not so different.”

“If you believe you have tamed me...”

“Then I deserve to be called a fool,” the Doctor finished the senstence.

“Indeed,” the Master admitted and then added after a while, “me and sis will find those lifts later on.”

“Fine,” agreed the Doctor, “But don't you two do anything stupid.”

“Like stealing stars?” asked the Master before he could restrain himself.

The Doctor's eyes widened with hardly hidden hope.

“Don't be worried, grumpy old man, I much prefer burning them,” replied the Master and left the the Doctor behind, standing all alone.

**Author's Note:**

> The illustration for this particular fanfiction was created by me and originally submitted on DeviantArt. Feel free to check my gallery for more of Doctor Who artowrks. ;)  
> Link: http://missaway.deviantart.com/


End file.
